Men behaving badly - My First Marriage 1967 to 1973

People who have not been mentally or physically abused could not possibly understand the feeling of helplessness and abject fear that invades a victim's very being. It's difficult to explain the control the abusers have over the people they think they possess.


In Durban, South Africa in 1968 at age twenty-one, while ice skating, I met the typical tall, dark, handsome flirt who worked nights there. I was naive enough to believe that he flirted only with me and that I actually meant something to this man. We began dating and after a while he told me he had been married and was paying support for four children.

We had what I thought to be a fairytale romance, and we started living together after a few months. He seemed kind and gentle towards me, until one day he lost his temper and suddenly grabbed me around the neck for no apparent reason. He immediately apologised and at the time, I didn't even consider the significance of this action. During the next year things moved along fairly smoothly. His ex-wife phoned me one day and tried to warn me about what a terrible bully this man was and how he had mistreated their children but I regretfully took no notice.

 also turned my back on all the street fights he continually got into although each one of these caused me a great deal of stress. He decided that we should move to Johannesburg and I cannot remember the reason he gave, but I naturally agreed and we were married there shortly after our arrival. Thankfully we had no children. He worked as an electrician for the council and was often on different shifts which did not coincide with my regular office hours of 8 to 5. Hence, we lived a sort of happy lifestyle for a few years until one day, knowing that something was wrong, I found a photograph of a woman i didn't know, in his wallet.. He explained to me that this woman was just a friend who didn't mean anything to him and that he loved me, that I was the only one for him, etc., etc., etc. In a temper, I decided I could not accept this and made plans to run away.

I had a friend at work who told me I could stay with she and her husband in her flat until such time as I could find myself somewhere to stay. That night my husband came looking for me and in a rage he banged on the door so loudly the neighbours started complaining. We did not want to let him in, but he threatened to continue to make a noise if we refused. To save my friend further embarrassment and inconvenience, I eventually opened the door and had no choice but to go with him. Things continued to deteriorate in our relationship and his behaviour became more and more unpredictable and irrational. Over the coming months, I left several more times only to be forcibly returned.

Most of my friends had given up trying to help me and virtually stayed away from us in order to keep the peace. My parents lived in another State and I wasn't willing to tell them anything was wrong. I had many brothers and sisters but chose to keep all this anguish to myself. It's beyond me why I did not reach out to them for any help. I also cannot explain why I did not go to the police.

Life continued, but I felt I was living in a vacuum and wanted so badly to leave. During this time, another lady at work had commissioned me to do a portrait of her three sons and because of that, we had become friendly. Once again I started making plans to leave. I gave my two weeks notice at work, bought a train ticket to the East London where my parents were living, and prayed everything would go smoothly. He came home one night and asked why I had not prepared his dinner. I told him that I had decided to leave him and that he could prepare his own dinner. He retorted by saying he didn't care at all, that I could leave any time i wished and calmly walked out of the door returning to work. After phoning my parents and letting them know I would be arriving in a couple of weeks, I went to bed in the spare room and felt at peace for the first time in years.

The following day after work, I came straight home and climbed into a nice hot bath to relax. I had my eyes closed and was drifting off to sleep and did not hear my husbands arrival. The next thing I knew, he was holding my head beneath the water trying to drown me. I struggled as much as possible and only near unconsciousness, did he let go of me and I managed to take a breath of air. He simply ran out the house without saying a word and went back to work.

The night after that, he told me he didn't care and that I could leave if I wanted. But the following night it was a different story again and he stormed into the house and demanded food. I reminded him that I was leaving and that I was not prepared to get his dinner. He came up to me calmly and lifted me by my hair and threw me across the room. He came at me, grabbed my head and slammed it into the outer corner of the cement wall. He then dragged me into the kitchen and held my face against the stove and turned the hot plates on one by one. Thankfully, something in his mind must have snapped and he stormed out of the house.

The next day, I spoke with my boss and asked if I might leave before my two weeks notice explaining my problems. I was afraid to not abide by what I believed to be a lawful mandatory two weeks notice. My boss could not see reason and told me that I HAD to stay for the two weeks. It would be many years later when I would learn there never was such a law…

One week remained to serve my full two weeks work notice, but the weekend to come would cut it short. It was Saturday when in uncontrollable anger, my husband threw me to the ground, straddled me and held my throat, strangling me. He screamed that if he could not have me, nobody would. Through my desperation, I managed to scream. My bull terrier heard me and threw himself against the front door. This commotion must have caused my attacker to stop because next thing I knew, I could breathe again and he had driven off in his car.

This was the day, I left for the final time, never to return. About a year later, I was walking along a road and I saw his truck travelling in my direction. He swerved his truck, mounting the pavement in an attempt to run me down. I managed to avoid being hit and ran away.

For me this was a very real and terrible part of my life.

What is it that keeps a person in a physically violent relationship? I cannot explain it but there are many pages on the internet that you can read up on.